So long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehn, Adieu

Hollyoaks Watch:

The Sob Count this week was 5, which considering I only caught 2 episodes must be some sort of record. Things that made me cry:

1. Steph throwing the stuff in Max's grave.

2. After the harrowing experience of Max's funeral, OB putting on the DVD of Max/OB/Tom happy days was enough to make me cry because of seeing Max.

3. OB saying goodbye to Tom - why the gods of Hollyoaks, why?! I know Tom's a great little actor and you want him to stick around, but NO. He belongs with OB. This is madness!

4. OB seeing Max in the doorway to Drive and Buy as he left - leaving behind Max, Tom, Hollyoaks and me, Goddamnit.

5. The saddest thing I have ever seen on television, and I say that without exaggeration and including the time Lucy died on ER: OB walking away, cue the old school Hollyoaks theme tune from waaaay back in the dim recesses of my adolescence, and a montage of Max/OB classics, right back to when they (and me, come to that) were schookids over the credits. Wailed. Wailed. INCONSOLABLE.

Monkey has now threatened to revoke my Hollyoaks watching rights. In this demand, he is aware he is forfeiting his Emmerdale watching rights, but I think he thinks it's worth it just to stop me sobbing into my chenin blanc and regalling him with tales of my mispent youth in the company of OB and Max. As he mopped up after me this evening (and I actually did sob so much over the closing theme music that I did that whole gulping thing you do when you're genuinely in distress and not just a bit sad), he remarked that he thought I felt more strongly about the characters in Hollyoaks than I did about real people. I think he may be right. Does that make me a sociopath? I think maybe it does.

Of course, the laugh count is at 1, as well. Steph, holding a shoebox of photos by Max's grave. Darren joins her.

Darren: What's in the box?

Steph [confused]: Max.

Gods of Hollyoaks - you didn't grant my wish of Tom and OB happily ever after. Please grant my wish of Steph and Darren happily ever after. I know they're stepsiblings, but everyone knows that in Hollyoaks shit like that is only temporary anyway. Please...they're great.

Well anyway. In honour of the occasion I have finally (after a decade in thier company) learned Max and OB's real names.

Dear Matt Littler and Darren Jeffries: I salute you. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Anthem for Doomed Youth: Hollyoaks

"Are you trying to come to terms with the loss of a loved one?" intoned the announcer at the end of Hollyoaks, before giving a number which would take away the pain. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am trying to come to terms with the loss of a loved one, but since it's the same loved one that the population of Hollyoaks is trying to come to terms with the loss of, I think I would get shortshrift.

Even for a soap, Hollyoaks exists in a state of near-hysteria on a regular basis. It seems to have finally, ultimately driven me to the same state. I can accept crying at Max's death. I grew up with him, I've known him since I was about fourteen, and have spent half an hour in his company every day for ten years. Then I cried on Monday after OB told Tom that the pain would never go away, and after Darren, Tony, Jack, Mandy and all the old school sat around with the silent impression that one of the group was most decidedly missing, which mirrored how I felt. Then I cried today when Tony left a bunch of flowers where Max died telling him he would make sure Tom would always know how much he loved him. I cried for Tony, people! I've hated him since day one! Christ alone knows what I will be like when the funeral rolls around, I am NOT going to be okay.

"The world doesn't revolve around the McQueens and your latest Jeremy Kyle scandal!" bawled Tony, to which I said "hear hear", this wholehearted agreement again a definite first in Hollyoaks history. I appreciate the theory: slicing in scenes of John Paul/priest (yawn) and Niall (yawn) and the fucking students (quadruple yawn), but in truth, this is MAX. Max is dead! I don't care about them! I don't care about Steph, really, either, because as she said to OB "I didn't really know [Max] at all." She didn't. She wasn't there for the old craziness when everyone was young! When Mr C was alive! When Max and OB were at school! When Tony was the annoying older guy! When Max had a crush on Mandy! When they went on holiday with Jambo and...Well, anyway, Steph was only there later so Max could have his faux happy ending, in much the same way Summer was for OB. And to be honest, while I am struggling with this, and while Mandy, Tony, Darren and most of all OB are in hell when I've known them forever, do you really expect me to care for the wretched damn students and their wacky hijinks, or the priest that came three minutes ago with the sole purpose to begin an affair with a teenage boy? Because, I don't. Maybe in a week, but not right now.

Of course, this cuts to the nub of the matter. Hollyoaks isn't for 24-year-olds who remember watching the first ever episode and being gobsmacked by the fact Natasha had a mobile phone. This is not the audience they are aiming for. I was 12 then, and it's 12-18-year-olds they want now, which is cool. Most people I know have stopped watching by now. And now Max is gone, and I dare say OB will be gone again soon enough (please, to the gods of Hollyoaks, let him take Tom with him. Tom can't lose OB too, I'll weep yet AGAIN), maybe it's time to say goodbye too. It is, I think, a great sign of the times that a colleague and I spent an hour of a meeting today discussing the comparable merits of Hollyoaks and One Tree Hill. Fond as I am of One Tree Hill, Hollyoaks will hold the dearest place in my heart forever. I grew up with it, and now I've grown out of it.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

What a dramatic day.

It began at six o'clock this morning with Monkey crashing around the bedroom. He seemed perfectly convinced that I had, for some dastardly reason, stolen his cagoule. Nothing could be further from the case. As a rule, I don't go to places where I need a cagoule, unless accompanied (read: dragged) by Monkey. I explained this as best I could through my hangover and hayfever. Monkey needed said cagoule, because he was going to Glastonbury or, as he insists on calling it aggrivatingly, "Glasto". Eventually, he stormed off before I remembered I actually had taken the cagoule on a shoot about six months ago to Iceland. Ooops. Monkey is likely cold and wet right now, but probably high too so I'm not feeling too sorry for him. Also, I don't feel sorry for anyone going to Glastonbury, because they are clearly so deranged as to be well beyond any help or solace sympathy could offer them.

Anyway, then, at work, my friend and I became convinced our exec had placed adverts for our jobs on Productionbase. Immediately it became a question of whose job it was. "Mine, definitely," moaned the lovely Frosty. "Mine," I whimpered. Turns out is was neither. "I thought you could use some help," said my exec, sweetly, though nervously because he's as socially dysfunctional as the mob at Glastonbury. "You both looked a little swamped." Actually, we both looked a little guilty, having drunk ourselves nearly to death in the Stewart at lunch in anticipation of near future unemployment.

But the worst was the last. Arriving home to a joyfully empty flat, I made dinner and a mess I didn't feel the need to tidy up, and put on Hollyoaks. Yesterday it reminded me why I have loved it for so long, by introducing a new variation on the old "interrupting the wedding" chestnut by having a madly distraught mother interrupting the ceremony by yelling at the priest: "You hypocrite! All this time, you've been having sex with my son!" Golden. And Mandy, who I couldn't be happier to see, had the most fantastic expression of glee, mixed with: "Well, obviously. What more do you expect from that family?"

But tonight Hollyoaks had an ace up its sleeve. From the start of this episode, you could tell something was about to kick off. 'Max and Steph: happily ever after' read the banner outside the Dog. Doom! DOOM! "This is what it is like to be a winner!" exclaimed OB. Doom! "I think this is what they call the perfect day," mused Max, as he and OB (YAAAAY) had a love-in. Doom! By the time he was knocked over in a deeply unconvincing stunt as Niall randomly run him right over, it was almost a relief. Until OB threw himself on Max's prone body, as poor Tom watched yet another relative expire. I'm beginning to think Clare was onto something, Tom is the common factor in all these premature deaths. Anyway, steeled as I was for this disaster, watching OB cradle Max in his arm ("I love you, mate," said Max, with his dying breath), I lost it completely. Yes, I cried at Hollyoaks. What are you going to do about it? I grew up with them! "What am I going to do without my best mate?" sobbed OB. What am I going to do with you two?! My only criticism (apart from with the, you know, dying and stuff) was that Mandy and Tony weren't there. Steph threw herself on him, of course, but somehow I was aching for some old-school OB, Max, Tony, Mandy, even Cindy facetime as a goodbye thing to our boys. The camera pulled away, and there's Max stone dead, surrounded by OB, Tom and Steph. It was devastatingly sad. Back when we were fourteen, I never thought it would end this way...

Monkey rang shortly afterwards to rave about fucking Glasto, home of the crazed who like wearing the same boots for three days straight and not sleeping in a cozy bed even when you're hangover, and the noise and the cold and the wet and the mud and the awful toilets and the overpriced booze and food and the crowd and the moody mob and I hate hate hate hate Glastonbury. With a passion. Almost as much as I hate Lauren Laverne. Which is a lot. "Watch it later!" said Monkey. "I hate Lauren Laverne," I said . "Oh, fuck off," he said, "and why do you sound like you've been crying?" I explained the Hollyoaks situation. There was a pause.

"Does this mean we don't have to watch anymore?" he asked.

NO.

Please Don't Go: Characters I Love

I knew the stress was getting to me today by the fact I was nearly moved to tears by Hollyoaks. I love Hollyoaks, and won't hear a thing against it, delightfully naff and wilfully histrionic as it is. I mean, I would hate to know most of them, but they're kind of entertaining to watch. But the fact is, now the lovely OB is going, I feel like I'm left in a room with a bunch of shouty idiots. OB, I beg of you, come back to me.

There a few characters on television which I am ashamed to say I actually truly love - or rather, I love them as you can only love a fictional being. Perhaps the closest comparision in real life is the unconditional adoration you can offer a pet. Personally, I have never been particularly moved by pets - given that my childhood ones were exclusively hamsters - but I absolutely believe my sister loves her dog more than she loves us, and my mother still gets misty-eyed over her dog, who died before any of us were born, and I think, before she was even married. A good thirty years ago, anyway.

So, yes, I love OB. I do. And the thought of him leaving actually grieves my heart, because to all intents and purposes, OB is now dead and this is terrible. I think it is even worse because the real nub of the matter is that the OB/Max/Tom dynamic was the best and possibly the only reason to watch Hollyoaks, as it leant the show a beating heart, true affection and I could gush about them all day, but I won't. Anyway, that little oasis of genuine emotion (not always positive emotion, given the recent Clare debacle and the Simon thing, but always genuine) is well and truly dried up now. The writers have tried to destroy it with every storyline going, but this is the final straw. Especially now Max is with the awful Steph, who, it turns out, was only amusing when paired with the equally awful Darren - together their downright malevolence was fantastic, but with the sweetness and light that is the Cunningham/O'Brien setup it just seems jaded and unpleasant. Oh, God, OB, don't go.

I feel a golden age has closed on Hollyoaks, taking with it all memories of the once-glorious nonsense and leaving behind a slough of despond. Perhaps this is because I grew up with along with OB, so naturally his youthful hijinks are inextricably tied up with memories of the halcyon, timeless days of my own youth...which I clearly spent watching TV. Well, anyway, times change I suppose. Max, for one, is still busking on a time long, long ago when I distinctly recollect I loved him, though I have no idea why that would be the case now. When Summer persuaded OB to leave Hollyoaks, she painted it as a dreary, desolate graveyard of hopes and dreams where everyone are underachievers and unhappy. And you know what? It's true. I remember when the show began, I wanted to move to Hollyoaks. Now, even watching it on TV is a little too close sometimes.

So, off OB trots into a future that likely includes oblivion or, alternatively, The Bill, taking with him the happy memories of the good old days of the feud with Jambo, the time Max, OB et al went potholing and half of them died, the time OB's girlfriend died, the time Max's girlfriend died, the time Max's dad died, the time Max's sister died, the time Max's niece died...adieu. You have been a good friend to Max, Tom and I. I'll miss you greatly. They'll probably forget you in two weeks, though. If OB is never mentioned again by either of them, consider yourself On Notice, Hollyoaks.

So who else do I feel such affinity for? Well, Gina and Smithy on The Bill, unquestionably. The cast of The Bill aren't quite the unremitting bores that the cast of Hollyoaks, in general, are, but they are all samey these days: young, attractive, inoffensive to eye, ear or sensibilities. Tony is looking more and more out of place, where once he was perfectly at home amongst the Junes and Jims of the world. With Reg now on the way out too, Roger is basically the only other old guard left: even though he's a recent addition he would have fitted in nicely in what I presume ITV would call The Old Bill, as though there's something wrong with that. When I was 12 and up I freaking loved The Old Bill.

I still watch The New Bill, but there's only so much of the Tiffanys and Ambers and Honeys and Kezias I can take. I know half of those have left, but I can't remember the new ones' names. (I really am not senile, by the way, I just don't care. I'm a bit like that with ER too. I know they'll be leaving in a couple of months, so what's the point in learning their names?) Well, anyway, Smithy and Gina, individually and together, are the best damn things in The Bill.

Smithy - not brilliant, not handsome, has a positively magnetic attraction to tragedy, but a sturdy, trustworthy character who you love simply because he's just being nice and normal in the un-nice and crazy world of Sun Hill. Gina - terrifying boss, in-control lady, soft at heart when it suits, cuts the not inconsiderable crap. Their chemistry together sizzles. I think it's because they're the only sane ones in the station. I know they try and pass the magnetism off as maternal, but lets face it: if the age difference was the other way around - if Gina was in her 30s and Smithy was in his 50s - they would have jumped into bed years ago. I spend most of their scenes together wishing they would, but then I remember that Smithy has had 3 girlfriends in the last four or five years killed, so perhaps Gina's better off leaving it at the sizzling.

No matter how much their mutual love-in warms the cockles (and it does), I'm more warmed by the glow of normality and reality that they give off. It's not often such warmth is real, and is allowed to make narrative sense. And without making either of them do stupid things or say stupid things or generally annoy me as most romance storylines do - they love each other as normal people would. Bottom line- if either of them leave, I'm going right with them. You hear that Thames TalkBack? GONE!

The others that spring to mind are: Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica. If any woman could turn me, I think Katee Sackhoff is she, mainly because she's so damn luminous it's incredible. But apart from the actress' physical appearance, Starbuck is so utterly batshit that she personally makes me feel a lot better in relation to my own at-times unpredictable behaviour. I actually spilt some tea shouting for joy when Starbuck turned up again. She's likely Cylonised, I expect, but frankly I think we should have an international day of jubilation if it turns out there's hundreds of Starbucks, because that'd be awesome. And I'm not talking coffee shops.

So yeah - the others I like because they're normal, Starbuck I like because she's totally mental, in fact, as crazy as surely we all are at heart but somehow manage to hide. Maybe it's the claustrophobia that's flicked her switch, but whatever's happened she's off the page. Still, you can totally see why everyone, even Tigh who doesn't like her, is completely under her spell. I don't know why she's under Apollo's, unless it's purely animal which with Starbuck, is more than possible. Fly on, Starbuck. You're fab.

And Giles from Buffy. I mean early Giles, before the character assasination and the abandonment. In fact, all Buffy for me is pre-nuts Willow (note: Willow is not fantastically nuts as Starbuck, she's annoyingly nuts as Britney Spears). Giles: the weirdly attractive father figure that gave every impressionable young girl a daddy issue whether she wanted one or not. I remember with such fondness him kicking the shit out of Angel by taking a fiery torch to him . I quite liked Cordelia too, but that was less about her character and more for her superb smackdowns.

Of course, there was a late, lamented time on Buffy when actually all the main characters were All Right, even Angel in his blockheaded way. I call those days Before Spike. But even amidst the cockeyed charm of Xander, the fragile brittleness of Cordelia, the adorable Oz, the hysterical-not-in-a-good-way Willow and the annoying-but-with-good-reason Buffy, Giles shone. He ran the whole thing by bringing out the best in the characters, especially in the early days when Buffy and Xander in particular had brattish tendencies. He and Buffy's relationship was adorably wholesome, given that poor old Buffy had a hell of a difficult life and her universe was increasingly dark and unpleasant (and boring to watch). So yeah - Giles is a hero to me.

But, as the Dixie Chicks would say, tonight the heartache's on me, because OB is still going, and that still suhhhhhks.

Misery Loves Company: Hollyoaks

Watching the Hollyoaks omnibus while nursing a hangover is a tradition of mine stretching back to before I legally should have been drinking anything hangover-inducing, but this morning I felt I had broken through the fourth wall. Lying in bed, eating toast and drinking tea and generally combatting a ruthless hangover which I think demonstrates encroaching age, everyone on screen seemed to be suffering as grievously as me. Let's see: Mike, Zoe, Sarah, all the McQueens but especially Michaela, Fletch, Sasha and Russ were all incapacitated at some point or another. Sasha in particular looked like a reflection of my ill self as she crawled from lying to sitting positions. When she complained that people thought they looked like druggies on account of their trashed next-morning appearance, Fletch replied: "Isn't everyone? Out of it is a normal look." To which I say: apparently so.

In other news - Summer, step away from OB. It's lovely you can sing, it's lovely that your borderline obsessive stalking of Andrew Lloyd Webber paid off, it's all lovely, but you pop OB on the next bus to Chester, or else I won't be responsible for my actions. Don't mess with me today, girl, I promise you my head is more than sore. You may get the part, but you don't get the boy. End of.